Archive of Our Own

He knew as soon as he hit the speed dial that if his kid sister picked up her cell phone, she was going to be pissed.

"Damn it, Danny," were her first words, angry but quiet in deference to her husband in bed beside her. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Yeah." He rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, the late hour and the beer and the lousy day weighing heavily on his shoulders. "Sorry."

"What is it, what's wrong? Wait, hang on."

He imagined her swinging her feet to the floor, searching for her slippers by feel alone. There was a soft mumble he couldn't quite make out beyond his name, so he knew that she was telling David that her brother was on the phone. There was another pause and he could picture her walking in the dark to her kitchen, maybe turning on the light and blinking as her eyes adjusted.

"Okay, Danny, tell—oh, God, you heard from Matty."

Danny flinched as if she'd aimed a slap at his head. "No, I have not heard from Matty."

He heard a little gulp and winced, feeling the telltale throb in his stomach that reminded him of another failure. "Then what's wrong?"

Danny sighed, half wishing he'd never decided to call Amanda, but he'd had just enough beer to let his guard down, and that made him aware that he needed someone to talk to before he did something stupid.

Again.

"I screwed up yesterday."

He heard a clink of glass on something, followed by the rushing sound of water. That made him smile a little—it was four a.m. east coast time but that didn't make a difference. When the Williams family was in crisis, there had to be coffee.

"What happened?"

"Aw, it's so dumb. Steve asked me to go hiking—"

"He what?" Oh yeah, that caught her attention.

"Hiking, we went hiking, only instead of sharing a moment—okay, we shared a moment or two, it was nice—but after that, Steve managed to not only find a dead body, he fell off a cliff and busted his arm."

There was a brief but eloquent pause. "Uh, okay."

"Yeah, I know." Leaning into the back of his couch with a muffled moan, Danny shook his head. He hadn't bothered to turn on any lights in his office, hoping that the darkness and the rough patter of rain against the windows would calm him down. "See, I thought he and I were maybe on the same page and yesterday was going to be the day, at least until—"

"Until you found a dead body."

"No, no, that wasn't a problem. I mean yeah, it was a problem that developed into a case and along the line I ended up elbow deep in stinky red fish, but that's another story."

"Danny." Now she was amused at Danny's expense, which made him feel worse. "Is Steve okay?"

"What? Yeah, he's fine, just has to wear a cast for a while."

"Did you solve the case?"

Danny looked up at the ceiling, raising his hand toward the shadows as if to beg some benevolent god for patience. He hadn't called the only person in the world who knew how he felt about his partner to talk about his crazy job. What he really needed to do was confess to his stupidity, then be told the obvious, that Steve hadn't noticed or, if he had, that he hadn't picked up on the significance of the gesture. After all, how could he know that Danny had just revealed his feelings so completely?

"Yes," he said patiently, "we solved the case. But like I said, I screwed up."

"Tell me what happened."

"Okay, so, first, I got to watch a boulder the size of a watermelon conk Steve in the head, which sent him down the cliff and that's how he busted his arm. Then, I had to hike to the summit so I could get cell reception to call for a medevac. Then I hauled ass back down to Steve, who informed me ever-so-calmly that it's going to rain and he's going to climb back up that damn cliff with one arm so he doesn't get caught in a mudslide."

"Seriously?"

"My hand to God, this is how my day went. Anyway, army evac showed up, they strapped Steve in to the harness and start to pull him out, and that's when I did it."

Amanda's tone was hushed. "Did what?"

Here it was, confession time. "Mom and Pop's heart thing."

There was a moment of stunned silence as Danny pictured Amanda sitting at her kitchen table, lifting her coffee cup to her lips, then going completely still as Danny's words made an impact.

"You didn't."

"I did."

"Wow, Danny, I had no idea—I mean, I know we talked about this, and I know you have feelings for Steve, but to do the heart thing? I mean—wow."

"I know, I know, I told you it was stupid. But I was just so relieved that he was going to be okay that I didn't think."

"So what did he do? How did he react?"

"He didn't." Danny scrubbed his free hand over his face as the events of the past two days finally began to sink in. Sure, he'd been relaxed and having fun at dinner, but that was mostly because Steve was there—Steve, who didn't pass up the opportunity to flirt with the waitress, but still, Steve in one piece was worth celebrating. But the celebration had ended when Chin got the call that his aunt had died, so they'd all parted ways after that. He didn't even have the consolation of taking Steve home, since Steve had his truck parked nearby, so by the time Danny had arrived back at the office because he was too keyed up to go home, all the good feelings were gone and he'd been left with an awful emptiness inside, the kind of emptiness that told him that he'd taken his best shot and it hadn't been enough. Not even close, but he didn't know if that was good or bad, since Steve had been giving off weird signals ever since they'd met up to go to Morimoto's.

"What do you mean, he didn't react? How could he not react to that?"

"I'm not even sure he saw me, at least not clearly. The guy was being hauled up into a helicopter, for God's sake."

"Aw, honey, I'm so sorry. The heart thing, man—that's a hard one."

"So, I'm an idiot, right?"

"No, you're not an idiot, you just have really lousy timing."

"Yeah, see, the thing is, I gotta take it back."

"You what?"

"I have to take it back, make it like it never happened. That's why I called, so you can help me figure out a way to blow it off if Steve brings it up. Because even if he didn't see it clearly, Chin saw it, so it's not like—"

"Wait, Chin Ho was on the hike, too?"

"No, he wasn't on the hike, when did I say he was on the hike? He was in the helicopter."

"Of course he was."

"Shush, you. Anyway, if he brings it up when Steve's around, I need a way to downplay it, make it like it was no big deal."

"Danny, I think—I think that's a mistake."

"No, it is not a mistake. Doing it in the first place was a mistake, because there's no way, even if Steve saw it, that he'd know what I meant and I for one am not going to explain it to him."

"Listen to me, you know I love you, right?"

Danny closed his eyes and slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He knew from that gently uttered phrase that he was about to get his ass handed to him.

"Yeah, sure."

"Then stop acting like a twelve-year-old with a crush on his teacher. That gesture was from the heart and nothing's going to take it back, whether Steve saw it or not. That's what you have to deal with, not Steve's real or imagined reaction to it. We both know what it means to Mom and Dad and if it has that same meaning to you, then you have to honor that. Don't try and diminish it because you're embarrassed."

"So, what you're suggesting is that I should bring it up? You want me to actually explain it to Steve?"

"Yeah, Danny. Explain it to me."

Oh, crap.

Danny jumped, then slowly turned his head to the left and saw exactly what he did not want to see, at least under these circumstances. Steve was standing in his doorway, leaning his left shoulder against the frame, his broken arm tucked tight against his chest.

"How did you get in here without me hearing those big feet of yours clomping across the hall?" Danny asked.

Before Steve could reply, Amanda spoke up. "What? Danny, who are you talking to?"

Glaring at Steve, Danny returned his attention to his sister. "Sorry, Steve just walked in. Check that, Steve just snuck in behind me and scared ten years off my life."

"At your apartment? What's he—"

"No, I'm at the office." Danny rose to his feet. "Listen, I'm gonna handle this. Kiss the kids and tell David to quit trying to beat the spread on the Knicks, all right? Okay, I love you, go back to bed."

"Night, Danny. Remember what I said."

Danny set his cell phone on the desk before facing Steve, his heart racing as Amanda's words echoed in his head. But the state of his own heart would have to wait, as both common sense and an overriding concern for his partner's well-being took precedence over his own inner turmoil. As usual, that concern expressed itself in a tirade that was out of his mouth before he could stop it—not that he would.

"What is it with you?" he demanded. "What are you, made of titanium? Can you not manage to look at least a little bit worse off for falling down a cliff and busting your arm, let alone the concussion you said you don't have but probably lied about? And what are you doing here, anyway? At the very least, you should be home resting, and if not at home, there was a perfectly willing waitress who no doubt would love to apply a little TLC. You got her number, right?"

Steve frowned, opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it, then tried again. "Which part of that do you want me to answer first?"

Danny definitely did not want an answer to his last question, so he waved his hand as if to dismiss any plausible reasoning Steve had for not being home and asleep, where he should be. Preferably alone.

"Never mind. Do what you need to do and then get out of here, all right?"

"No, wait. See, I have a question, too."

"Oh? And that question is?"

Steve's gaze drifted past Danny's head, then returned to Danny, his expression shadowed and hard to read in the low light of the office. "What are you doing here?"

The question wasn't unexpected, but it wasn't easy to answer, either. He couldn't reply truthfully, that he was tired of hiding his feelings but unable—or unwilling, given his strong sense of self-preservation—to share them with anyone other than a loving, understanding, straight-talking sister. Nor could he follow that same sister's advice, not right now, not with a wounded and should-be-dead-on-his-feet Steve propped up against his office door frame.

So he went for a piece of middle ground that he hoped would satisfy Steve and get them both heading toward their respective beds. Steve had to be exhausted and Danny was completely wrung out, so he needed to end this conversation quickly. Shoving his phone into his pocket, he made a move toward the door, expecting Steve to give way and start walking with him to the exit. When Steve didn't budge, Danny had to stop in his tracks to answer Steve's question.

"I was talking to my sister. Can we go now? Please?"

Steve cocked his head to one side. "It's four o'clock in the morning in New Jersey."

"Yes, thank you, Commander Cuckoo Clock, I know what time it is in Jersey, because I always know what time it is in Jersey. But I had to talk to her, it's a family thing."

"Is everyone okay? Which sister was it? Mandy, right? Or was this about Matt?"

Danny blinked at Steve's urgent tone. Now Steve looked worried, and that's not at all what Danny had intended. He reminded himself that he had no idea how much of his conversation with Mandy that Steve had overheard, and judging by his concern now, not too much.

"Everything's fine, I called her—"

Wrong thing to say. "Why? Are you okay?"

Sighing, Danny rubbed at his eyes. "Yes, Steve, I'm fine. You, you are not fine, you are broken. And broken people should be home in bed, just like I'm sure your doctor instructed you when he was putting a cast on your, oh yeah, that would be your broken arm."

Steve nodded. "We can go as soon as you explain to me what you meant yesterday."

Danny inclined his head, acting as if he hadn't quite understood Steve's statement, even though the plummeting sensation in his stomach told him he knew exactly what Steve was referring to.

"I'm sorry, when yesterday? Oh, the part about paybacks and stinky red fish? Because it's not like I'm going to give you a warning."

"You know what I'm talking about, Danny."

It was too soon, he wasn't ready. He didn't have a plan to get out of this gracefully. Under normal circumstances, he could think pretty fast on his feet, but this was different. This was searching for the right words to make everything he felt and hoped about Steve into nothing but a joke, taking the heart he'd drawn in the air and ripping it into shreds.

"Yeah," Danny mumbled, "okay." He cleared his throat and looked away, dry panic making it difficult to swallow. "So you're probably talking about the heart thing."

"Yeah, I am."

"Right." Danny forced himself to look at Steve, whose expression was still giving nothing away. If he'd hoped for some clue about what Steve was feeling, he wasn't going to get it, and Danny was too pragmatic to believe that confessing anything at this point wouldn't directly alter the path of his life, and not for the better. "It was nothing. I was just teasing you, you looked about eight years old going up that into that bird, so I did what my mom used to do when we got banged up as kids."

It was a partial truth—his mom used to draw little heart signs in the air as she stood at the door of their bedrooms when they had a cold or a skinned knee—but that was neither the true meaning nor the true significance of the gesture.

"That was it?" To Danny's surprise, Steve sounded breathless, his voice low and ragged.

Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, Danny nodded. "That was it."

He made another attempt to move them both out of his office, thinking if he got out first, Steve would have to follow him to continue this conversation. But Steve had decided to become an immovable object as he thrust out his forearm and locked his elbow, blocking Danny's exit.

"Don't do this."

The rough note in Steve's voice had increased to the point where the words had come out as more of a growl than a sentence. He put his hand on Danny's shoulder so that his arm lay flush across Danny's chest, the heat of his bare skin penetrating Danny's dress shirt.

"Do what?" Danny whispered. Taking a step back to break the contact, he glanced at Steve and then looked away, for the first time in his life too off balance to look someone in the eye because he knew, he fucking knew, that he'd give everything away if he did.

And if he gave everything away to someone who didn't want what he had to offer—his heart, his life— then he'd lose more than a little self-respect. He'd lose his death grip on a dream that he'd barely even admitted to himself, the dream where his feelings for Steve, all of them—bone-deep loyalty, desire, and yes, love, because it was just a fantasy, right?—were reciprocated. That same dream, when Danny let it go far enough in his head, had everything in it that Danny had ever needed or wanted, and to have it ripped away because of his own carelessness in a moment of mindless relief would leave him as empty as the day Rachel told him she was walking out and never coming back.

Steve shifted again, straightening up to crowd Danny against the door. Danny stiffened as Steve stepped closer, his lean body taut and his dark eyes no longer shadowed but wide and pleading as he forced Danny to meet his gaze.

"Don't take away," Steve swallowed, then continued, "don't take away something that gave me hope that I was right about inviting you to see the petroglyphs."

Danny frowned, unable to make the connection. "I don't get it."

Bowing his head, Steve's voice dropped to a whisper. "You're the first person I ever asked to see them, the first person I ever wanted to know what they mean to me. I thought you and I—if I—forget it, Danny. Let's go home."

He started to turn but Danny grabbed his arm, tightening his grip when Steve jerked away, trying to dislodge his hand.

"Hold on, hold on, wait a minute." He took a deep breath, knowing that what he was about to ask would send them both over the ledge and into the unknown. The question was whether they'd go there together. "Finish that sentence."

"Danny, I don't—"

"Finish it, damn it."

"See, I had this crazy thought," Steve muttered after a pause that stretched Danny's nerves to the shattering point, "that after showing you the carvings, maybe that'd be the right time."

His heart hammering in his throat, Danny slid his hand down Steve's arm until his fingers circled Steve's wrist. They were standing so close together that he could feel Steve's breath on his face, could see the fear—and something else—shining in Steve's eyes.

"The right time for what?"

"To do this."

Raw emotion had gotten them this far, so the kiss wasn't unexpected, but the awkward gentleness as Steve's mouth met his own was something Danny hadn't included in his dreams. He'd always imagined that he would make that first move, and his actions would be sure and strong as he finally, finally, kissed the mouth that had been driving him crazy for months. He never expected this hesitant, reverential touch that wrung a low moan from his own throat as he leaned into Steve, his arms going around Steve's waist as Steve buried his free hand in the hair at the base of Danny's neck.

Then half-formed dreams and painful realities were forgotten as Steve's mouth moved against his, nudging his lips apart, pressing harder when Danny complied. There was a moment when they paused to breathe each other's air, then Danny tilted his head as Steve edged forward, curving his cast around Danny's back as the kiss went from exploratory to incendiary in the space of a heartbeat.

This was far different than Danny's hazy, hope-fueled fantasies. He'd never expected his knees to turn to jelly at the first touch of Steve's tongue to his, nor did he imagine the intoxicating sensation of rigid muscles bunching beneath his hands as he began the longed-for journey of learning every plane and angle of Steve's body. His head was swimming with everything about Steve—his taste, his scent, the roughness of his cheek against Danny's, the feel of Steve's fingertips on his neck as he turned Danny's head for a deeper connection, the pressure of Steve's cast against the small of his back. He willingly, irrevocably gave himself up to all of it, the misery of the past year obliterated by the homecoming he'd just found in Steve's arms.

The kiss ended though they barely parted, Danny keeping his eyes closed to hold on to the euphoria just a little bit longer. Afraid of what he'd find in Steve's eyes now that this was between them, he bowed his head against Steve's shoulder.

"How did you know I was here tonight?" he asked quietly, smiling a little when he felt Steve's fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt near his ribcage.

Steve's reply was just as hushed as he rested his cheek against Danny's temple, his entire body flowing to curl around him. "I followed you."

"You—why?"

"Because I needed to know what it meant, the sign. Now I know, but I still—"

"I lied."

They both drew back so they could see each other, Danny a little shamefaced as he realized he needed to come clean with Steve.

"What do you mean, you lied?"

"Well," Danny amended, "not lie, exactly, but the whole heart sign—it was a thing my parents did, all right? It was special, like your old man taking you to see the graffiti."

"Petro—hell, never mind. So tell me."

Danny hesitated, lifting his hand to stroke Steve's face, careful to avoid the abrasions scattered across his skin. "What am I gonna do with you," he muttered. "You are such a mess."

"Yeah, thanks for the update," Steve said, the corner of his mouth quirking upward with half a grin, "but enough with the diversions. We've come this far, Danny. Bring it home for me."

"Okay, okay, you, uh, you know my dad was a firefighter, right? When I was a kid, he worked four-eights. Four days off duty, eight days on. Every time Pop left to go to work, he'd stop at the end of the driveway. My mom, she'd be watching from the door, and when he'd turn around, instead of waving goodbye, he'd draw this heart in the air, so that would be the last memory she'd always have of him if things went bad on the job. Then she'd do it back, so he'd have a reminder of what was waiting for him at the end of his shift. Doing it for you, it was just—I don't know, I guess it was just instinct."

When Steve didn't say anything and kept his eyes lowered, Danny's stomach clenched. He pressed a kiss to Steve's jaw and took a step back, searching for the words to put Steve at ease with what had obviously become an uncomfortably intimate revelation for him.

"Did I just lose you there, babe? Finally find a Williams trait that's too much to take on?"

"No," Steve whispered. "I just—"

He finished his thought by grabbing the front of Danny's shirt and kissing him, deep and hard, everything about his touch reassuring Danny more than words that Steve was overwhelmed, but in a way that was only going to bring them closer and continue what they'd started in the McGarrett garage so many months ago. He responded wholeheartedly to the demanding kiss, holding back nothing as their bodies fought to inhabit the same space.

"Right, right, okay," Danny breathed as they paused for air, "this is, well, this is awesome, and I don't know about you but I could do this all night, but maybe we need to—"

"Go home."

"Right, go home—wait, go where?"

Steve smoothed his thumb over Danny's lower lip. "Come home with me."

"Can we do that? I mean, I know you can do that, but are you ready for this?"

Steve grinned at him, slinging his good arm around Danny's neck and turning them toward the hallway. "Am I ready? Let me tell you something, I know you're a hotshot big city detective and all that crap, but if you haven't figured out that I've been ready for this practically since we met, then I'm genuinely concerned for your future in law enforcement."

"Oh really?" Danny slid his arm around Steve's waist. "This from a man who learned police procedure from watching old episodes of Adam-12. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, since it allows me to at least school your super SEAL ass on one thing—"

"Oh, you school my ass?"

"Yes, Steven, you may find this hard to believe, but at some point, I'm going to make you understand that most people—most normal, sane people—do not end a conflict with surface-to-air missiles."

"I love it, are you starting that again? Because I can bring up a lot of situations we've faced where a tactical response has worked a little better than beating someone down with amusing anecdotes."

"Oh, a tactical response? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"Admit it, you like it when I improvise."

"No, no, I don't, because I usually end up ducking behind a wall or a table, hoping my head will still be attached to my body when all the booming stops."

"Hey, it gets results, doesn't it?"

"Okay, hold on." Danny stopped and faced Steve, crossing his arms over his chest but holding up one finger for emphasis. "Are we gonna argue about this for the next fifty years? Because if we are, tell me now, so I can buy stock in Kevlar."

Steve wrapped his hand around Danny's neck and leaned in for a kiss, laughing against Danny's mouth.

"Every day, Danno. Promise me every day of those fifty years that you'll argue with me."

Danny shook his head. "You're crazy, you know that."

"No, but I know you'll tell me I am anyway."

"Damn right I will. Know what else I'll do?"

"I'm afraid to ask."

"This." Danny pointed to himself, then drew a heart in the air before pointing at a wide-eyed Steve. "Fifty years of this over-the-top schmoop and everything that goes with it. What do you think about that?"

Steve nodded decisively. "I'll take it."

"All of it? Because Grace—"

"Gracie, too, you know that. I wouldn't have it—or you—any other way."

Something settled inside Danny at Steve's words, something clicking into place in his heart and his head. He'd never drawn an air heart for Rachel—had never even brought it up—and now he knew why. Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out his car keys and tossed them to Steve.

"Fair enough. Let's go home."